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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28708887">Rise of Fenris</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRLupine/pseuds/JRLupine'>JRLupine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Animal Abuse, Be Mindful of Tags and Warnings, Explicit Sexual Content, Fenrir Greyback Origin Story, How Greyback Became a Werewolf, How Greyback Formed His Pack, Origin Story, Other, Physical Abuse, Rape, Sexual Violence, Smut, Werewolf Culture, Werewolves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:47:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28708887</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRLupine/pseuds/JRLupine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If anyone were asked to describe the sort of man the infamous werewolf Fenrir Greyback was, they’d use words like “sadistic”, “sociopath” and “Monster”</p><p>All of these words were more than adequate. But to perpetuate the belief that Greyback was a monster because he was a werewolf would be a lie, for he was a monster well before he received the bite.<br/>-<br/>Fenrir Greyback Origin Story</p><p>[Chapter Specific Warnings Included In Notes]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In The Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CHAPTER WARNINGS:<br/>* Implied/Referenced Animal Abuse<br/>*Graphic Animal Abuse-Butterfly, Chicken</p><p>PLEASE TAKE THESE INTO CONSIDERATION BEFORE CHOOSING TO READ</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From the time he was a little boy, Fenrir Greyback took delight in terrorizing anyone and any<em> thing </em> smaller and weaker than him. </p><p> </p><p>At the age of five he’d already gotten quite good at catching butterflies. </p><p> </p><p>He’d mastered the art of holding the delicate creature in his hands, relishing the feeling of their little wings beating helpless against his caged fingers in a fruitless attempt at escape. He especially loved the feeling he got from snuffing out the little thing. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually he started tearing the wings off the butterflies he caught. </p><p> </p><p>He’d watch them squirm and writhe on the ground. Mutilated, defenseless, pitiful...</p><p> </p><p>He found he liked the feeling this act gave him far, far more.</p><p> </p><p>When butterflies got boring he moved on to bigger prey. He begged his parents for a pet and like the good parents they were they got him one. Toads were in fashion in those days, but Fenrir was still disappointed when he laid eyes on his ‘new friend’. He imagined a cat or a dog or even an owl would’ve put up a better fight—would've been harder to catch.</p><p> </p><p>(<em>It’s not as fun if it’s too easy.) </em></p><p> </p><p>The toad doesn’t last long. His parents ask questions. Fenrir—just Fen in those days— gives answers. Though he lies easily and his face gives nothing away they don’t believe him. Still, they say nothing. </p><p> </p><p>(<em>Ignore it and it’ll go away. Out of sight out of mind) </em></p><p> </p><p>But the older Fenrir Greyback got the harder his behavior was to ignore. One sunny summer evening young Fenrir came into the kitchen, his hands stained a vivid red. His mother fussed over him at once. But her worry quickly turned into horror when she realized that the blood on her son’s hands wasn’t his own. </p><p> </p><p>She asks her son what he’s done and he takes her out to the back garden where the body of one of the family’s chickens lay next to a blood stained shovel; clearly having been bludgeoned to death</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not my fault!” Fen says stubbornly. “Stupid thing scratched me.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother knew there was no point in trying to make her boy see that what he’d done was wrong. She did it anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Promise me Fen,” she begged, tears in her eyes. “ Promise me you won’t do something like this ever again!”</p><p> </p><p>Try as she might she still failed. Fenrir went through the motions, he looked perfectly sorry, apologized and promised he’d try really hard to control his temper. But he didn’t mean a word of it, he wasn't sorry in the slightest, it was all an act put on for her benefit. </p><p> </p><p>His mother knew all this because no matter how good an actor her son might’ve been, no one can change their eyes. Her little boy didn’t have a child’s eyes, full of innocence and wonder. Instead, Fenrir’s eyes were cold, dark and empty—like staring into a bottomless pit. It sent shivers up her spine</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Greyback tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that Fenrir’s eyes—his <em> behaviors— </em> were not her fault. It wasn’t she nor her husband that had sapped the light out of him. He’d been born that way, born with those cold, unfeeling eyes. Born, <em> wrong </em> and twisted. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t anyone's fault that her son was this way. He simply <em> was, </em> and there was nothing she nor anyone else could do about it. Mrs. Greyback knew this. She’d known it the moment they’d visited the Naming Seer who’d laid bare her son’s future and had bestowed upon him the moniker of Fenrir </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fenrir the monster, Fenrir the wolf… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>But like all good mothers, Mrs. Greyback loved her son, and so day after day she’d fight the losing battle that was changing his fate. </p><p> </p><p>She rejected the name Fenrir almost entirely. Rejecting a Naming Seer’s choice once it was given was considered bad luck at the very least and blastphamous at the very worst. It was this reason alone that stopped her from naming her baby something else altogether. But still, he was always Fen to her, never Fenrir. She refused to accept his fate, she refused to write her son off. She showered him with love and affection. She tried teaching her boy right from wrong, tried teaching him to care for others. Hoping beyond hope that maybe just <em> maybe</em>, it would be enough.</p><p> </p><p>No one can beat fate. No one can change a person’s very nature. Yet still she tried so hard to change the future, to change her son<em> . </em> To <em> save </em> him...to save the people he’d grow up to hurt.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> (What sort of mother gives up on their child? What sort of mother lets their child become a monster?)  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t give up when the neighborhood cats started to go missing. </p><p> </p><p>She didn’t give up when she caught her son bullying other kids into submission. Laughing at a younger boy whose arm he’d just broken.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t give up when she noticed her son’s abnormal fixation with blood</p><p> </p><p>She would never give up on him because that was what mothers do. Mother’s <em> suffer </em> for their children!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> (Oh, how Fenrir made her suffer…) </em>
</p><hr/><p>The kind, caring Mrs. Greyback could never have bared the terror her boy would inevitably become. And so, years later, it was often that people remarked that it was lucky that she hadn’t lived long enough to witness the height of her son’s depravity.</p><p> </p><p>Fate, harsh and unyielding though it might’ve been, was still kind to the young mother in this one small way. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. School Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CHAPTER WARNINGS:<br/>*Implied/Referenced Physical Abuse, Blood<br/>*Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault<br/>*Victim Blaming</p><p> <br/>PLEASE TAKE THESE INTO CONSIDERATION BEFORE CHOOSING TO READ</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Hogwarts was not all together prepared when the young Fenrir Greyback first walked through the castle doors. </p><p> </p><p>Big and brawny for his age, with a mean look about him, people knew instinctively to stay away from him, even in his first year. Fenrir had no problem with this. He had no use for friends and quite liked the idea of people being afraid of him. Rather than grow into the sort of person who cared for the feelings of others as his mother would’ve wanted, Fenrir remained as cold and uncaring as ever. </p><p> </p><p>He was not, however, unfeeling. He felt lots of things in fact. He felt <em> joy </em> at terrorizing those around him. It didn’t matter what house they were in, how old they were, or whether they were a boy or girl, no one was safe from him. </p><p> </p><p>He felt <em> pleasure </em> watching his newest prey whimper and cry as he got his hands on them. He would draw things out so he could hear them beg. </p><p> </p><p>(“Please don’t! Oh please, I’ll do anything!”)</p><p> </p><p>He <em> loved </em> to hear them beg.</p><p> </p><p>Still though, it wasn’t all smooth sailing for Fenrir. People were a lot more complicated than the animals he’d grown used to playing with; harder to keep quiet. </p><p> </p><p>Fenrir learned this important lesson when he’d been brought before Headmaster Dippet regarding an incident with a boy named Winston Kirby, that had resulted in a handful of broken fingers. There had been no point in trying to deny what had happened because Kirby’s little friends had squealed too. So Fenrir went along with the punishment the Headmaster had dulled out. Sitting through detentions and silently seething as he penned out a worthless apology letter to the boy whose fingers he’d broken. </p><p> </p><p>Fenrir hated apologizing. He didn’t need an excuse for how he treated people. He liked it. Doing whatever he wanted with them, making them do whatever he wanted. He shouldn’t have to apologize for doing what he liked. How dare anyone make him do otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>Not even a week had gone by after Fenrir Greyback had written his letter to Winston Kirby, before the boy and his two best friends had been discovered lying bruised and bloodied in the boys toilets.</p><p> </p><p>Not one of them would say what happened or who had done it to them. In fact the only thing the boys would say was that <em> nothing </em> had happened. This was by no means convincing, considering how Winston Kirby had to speak through a bloody mouthful of cracked and missing teeth. Not to mention how his friends had been found with torn robes and equally painful injuries.</p><p> </p><p>Though it was clear that something had happened and teachers had their suspicions, the boys silence ensured that nothing could be done about it.</p><p> </p><p>The students at Hogwarts were left wondering just what had gotten into Greyback as he practically glided down the halls with a smile on his face that day. And Fenrir had every right to be happy of course. Now that he’d fixed the problem no one would dare go to a teacher again. Word would get around that Fenrir Greyback wasn’t the kind of guy you crossed like that. They’d learn it was better—safer— if they kept their mouth shut.</p><p> </p><p>He could continue doing what he liked and he’d never have to apologize for it. Instead he made <em> them </em> apologize. It was their fault for looking at him. His fault for bumping into him in between classes. Her fault for wearing such a short skirt and teasing him like that. All of them were asking for it. </p><p> </p><p>Fenrir didn’t need an excuse to do the things he did, but he liked making them apologize. Liked humiliating them, laughing at them as they cried.</p><p> </p><p>(“I’m sorry Fen, I won’t do it again I swear!”)</p><p> </p><p>It was like an addiction for him. Delivering each blow, the smell of blood in the air, the sound of bones cracking—it all filled him with an immense sense of euphoria. Nothing else had ever come close to making Fenrir feel this good. Not even sex—though it was a close second—could deliver the same sort of ecstasy. Like any addict, the ruthless Greyback would care about nothing more than relentlessly chasing after that delicious high.</p>
<hr/><p>In the years following Fenrir Greyback’s admission into Hogwarts Leonora Weaver, the Hogwarts Matron, noticed a marked up-tick in the number of patients she saw in years previous. As it stood now there were an average of three or four students a week. All from different houses, all from different years and all showing up to the Hospital Wing suffering from a wide range of hexes and physical injuries.  </p><p> </p><p>Like a lot of teachers at the school, she too had her suspicions. But again and again the students were too frightened to speak out.</p><p> </p><p>(“Nothing happened!”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t see who it was...”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I broke it playing Quidditch, really I did!”)</p><p> </p><p>Leonora, tried and true Hufflepuff that she was, wanted nothing more than to pry, to do her job and protect her students from pain, to help. But she could not. She knew that prying would only scare them away, resulting in students who would rather walk around in pain than come and see her. </p><p> </p><p>Instead she did what she could. She mended wounds and dried tears, but more importantly she put the word out to the teachers at the next staff meeting.</p><p> </p><p>“Something has to be done about the Greyback boy.”</p><p> </p><p>Most take her seriously, clearly having already reached the same conclusion she had. A couple, for the admittedly noble reason of not wanting to single out a student without any real evidence, are hesitant. A few think she’s jumping to conclusions. </p><p> </p><p>The staff discuss this for quite a while. And when things start to take a turn it becomes less of a discussion and more of an argument, at least in Leonora’s case. </p><p> </p><p>By the end of the meeting it was decided that the most the teachers could do was keep a closer eye on Fenrir and for his Head of House to have a talk with the boy to see what they could get out of him.</p><p> </p><p>Leonora was beyond disappointed by this. But given the fact that there were no victims who’d come forward nor any witnesses, all their worries about Fenrir were technically baseless and unfounded. It was the best they could do. After all, they couldn’t expel a student just because he gave them a bad feeling. No matter how bad that feeling was. </p><p> </p><p>This particular fact would serve as the vain of Leonora Weaver’s existence as student after student continued to make their way to her, looking wide-eyed and frightened out of their wits. </p><p> </p><p>Fenrir Greyback on the other hand, looked back fondly on his school days. He couldn’t have asked for a better proving ground or easier targets. Like sitting ducks really. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Lycaon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS:</p>
<p>*Implied/Referenced Physical Abuse.</p>
<p>PLEASE TAKE THESE INTO CONSIDERATION BEFORE CHOOSING TO READ</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p>Students whispered in the halls about Greyback. Never when he was around, never loud enough that he might hear them, but still they gossiped about him; wondering about the reason for his terrible nature.</p>
<p>There was one rumor that said Greyback had been the victim of a powerful curse when he was young.</p>
<p>"It scrambled his brains," they said. "Knocked something loose in his head."</p>
<p>Another rumor said Greyback was simply a victim of the madness that befell all pureblood families.</p>
<p>Yet another rumor, however, stated Fenrir had inherited his disposition. The exact degree of relation to this relative changed depending on who was telling the story. Sometimes it was his grandfather, second-cousin, or even his great-great grandmother. But the one thing everyone could agree on was that whoever they were, they were a werewolf.</p>
<p>Greyback had werewolf blood in him, it was the only explanation. And if nothing else, it certainly seemed to fit better than the theory that Greyback was part troll.</p>
<p>And it seemed even more obvious when you took into account the boy's obvious fascination with werewolves. Students who shared lessons with Greyback knew he wasn't particularly inclined to study and that his marks reflected this. But when werewolves came up in Defense Against The Dark Arts, Fenrir listened with a kind of fervent interest they'd never seen otherwise.</p>
<p>He'd hounded their professor with questions about the wolves. He'd also become quite angry when the professor's answers proved unsatisfactory. Apparently the chapter on werewolves was not nearly long enough for Greyback's liking; poor Professor Brown looked like he might wet himself.</p>
<p>They need not have spoken in hushed whispers however. Should anyone have been brave enough to ask Fenrir directly about his passion for werewolves or whether or not there indeed was a werewolf in his family, the young man in question would not have acted out in anger as all had come to expect.</p>
<p>Where other people might've been ashamed there was even so much as a <em>rumor</em> of there being a werewolf in their family, Fenrir Greyback was different. He was proud of this fact. It was true, there <em>had</em> been a werewolf in his family at one time. The Greybacks of the past had tried their best to keep it hushed up because of the terrible shame of it all. But —as tended to happen with secrets this big—word had still gotten out to the Wizarding community anyway. The Greyback family had never been able to recover from this terrible blow to their reputation.</p>
<p>Fenrir cared nothing for reputation, he cared nothing for the silly fears of the weak nor for how people thought 'good, wizarding folk' ought to behave. Instead, he cared about power and how to trample those without it underfoot. That was why Fenrir had resolved to learn everything about this disgraced ancestor years ago.</p>
<p>It was easy work. For all the shame Arcadius Greyback had brought on to his family, they hadn't bothered to destroy his portrait, or perhaps they'd forgotten it was there. Either way, though it had been left abandoned and in disrepair in a forgotten corner of the attic of his family home, the portrait was still very much in one piece when Fen had stumbled upon it, and <em>very </em>talkative. Arcadius was always willing to answer Fenrir's questions, always ready to tell him stories about his youth. He was rather like what Fenrir imagined a grandfather would be like.</p>
<p>Fenrir often wondered if Arcadius had been just as chatty in life or if his portrait was just terribly lonely. Regardless, the young boy was grateful, he'd never met anyone so interesting. He'd had all sorts of stories of fabulous adventures, usually involving mounds of gold and pretty girls from all over the world. Dragon hunting in China, battling acromantula in Borneo, running from an angry herd of centaurs in Greece, partying with Veela in France. Fenrir loved it all. But the story the young boy loved the most was the one about werewolves.</p>
<p>"Nothing like it in the whole world my boy, nothing like it in the whole world." Arcadius said one night when Fenrir had first asked him what being a wolf was like.</p>
<p>"I won't pretend I wasn't scared the firs' time I transformed, been dreading it all month long. Thought I was better off dead. But after…" Arcadius said excitedly, "Oh after! It was-it was <em>power</em> my boy, a feeling of pure power, like your whole body's on fire. You can feel it in there, <em>inside, </em>just waiting to come out."</p>
<p>"Most people are too busy hating themselves after they been bitten to see how it really is. It's all in the mind see. You think it's gonna be terrible, so it is. You're <em>convinced</em> you're a disgusting animal so your blind to how much better off you are now.</p>
<p>"But <em>I </em>could see!" Arcadius continued earnestly. "Speed, senses, strength, it's all there once you embrace it, embrace the wolf!" There was a pause and Arcadius' painted dark eyes suddenly looked murderous.</p>
<p>"It's those people who are the problem not wolves!"</p>
<p>"What people?" Fen asked.</p>
<p>"Them!" Arcadius spat. "People, ordinary wizards. They keep us downtrodden—make us hate ourselves— to keep us weak. They don't want us to realize how strong we really are because they're afraid! They know we're better than them so they can't have us knowing, can't have us getting ideas cause they know they'd lose!"</p>
<p>The older man gesticulated so wildly Fen thought he might just shoot out of the painting.</p>
<p>"I wanted to teach them how wrong they were ya know. I wanted to make them see how much better society could be if they all had the bite. I tried going before the Ministry to make my case, but they wouldn't have it. Chucked me out before I could say anything as soon as they found out what I was. Killed me when I wouldn't back down, did ya know that. Put up a good fight though, I did. Or at least that's what they told me when they left me up here like trash anyway."</p>
<p>Arcadius spat on the ground in his portrait. "They're weak boy, they all are. The strong rule the weak, not the other way around. The strong are the ones on top. That's how it's always been, that's how it ought to be. You understand don't you."</p>
<p>Fenrir couldn't have agreed more with his ancestor's words. He knew he was strong, but he wanted to be stronger and he knew exactly how to do it. Arcadius said he would've been more than willing to bite Fenrir himself. It was poor luck that the werewolf was long dead by that point.</p>
<p>The young Greyback was instead forced to wait until he was old enough to go looking for a werewolf himself. In the meantime his obsession with the creatures grew. He wanted to meet one. Talk to one, a real one anyway, not just an impression of one frozen forever in time. The one thing he wanted most was to see one change. It was the only subject he cared much about, it frustrated him to no end that no one at Hogwarts was willing or able to teach him anything about them.</p>
<p>There was, of course, a chapter on werewolves in his DADA textbook. But the most it told them was how to defend themselves against werewolves and who to contact at the Ministry should they ever believe they'd come across one in human form. It didn't make any mention of the things Arcadius had spoken about; how it changed everything about you, the strength, the power. He'd held out some hope that Professor Kettleburn, who taught Care of Magical Creatures, might've known more, but Fenrir was again disappointed.</p>
<p>At one point Fenrir had tried getting his father to agree to send him to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts. The school was well known for its willingness to teach darker subjects that places like Hogwarts wouldn't touch, Fenrir was sure he could learn all there was to know about werewolves no problem over there. But wouldn't allow it. A place like Durmstrang would've done nothing but encourage his son and that was the last thing he wanted.</p>
<p>Fenrir resolved to read every book that so much as mentioned werewolves in the Hogwarts library, spending every one of his afternoons and weekends devouring volume after volume. Eventually, there came a point where Fenrir had to get his hands on stuff in the Restricted Section if he wanted to keep going.</p>
<p>He didn't bother trying to ask the librarian or any of his teachers for permission to go in there, he already knew what they were going to say. Though Fenrir had little interest in his school work he was by no means stupid, he knew they were keeping an eye on him. It took every ounce of control he had not to laugh in Slughorn's face when he tried to get him to 'open up'. Fenrir had known what to say of course, or rather, what <em>not</em> to say. The fat old man hadn't felt the need for a heart-to-heart since, but Greyback imagined asking him for permission to read restricted werewolf literature would've sent up a few too many red flags.</p>
<p>There were ways around this of course. It was all too easy to bully more innocent students into checking out the books for him, teachers being none the wiser. He kept the rarer copies for longer, reading them over and over again until he knew their contents by heart. He knew he couldn't keep them forever, special charms placed on these one of a kind books make sure of that. Instead Fenrir painstaking transcribes each page, filling up roll after roll of parchment; his own private collection.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Were it up to Fenrir he would've left Hogwarts long ago once he'd realized the school could teach him nothing he cared about, but education in the Wizarding World was compulsory until fifth year so he had to bide his time.</p>
<p>With no plans to continue his education past his OWLs. Greyback had to meet with his Head of House and the Headmaster to officially declare his intent to withdraw. Professor Slughorn makes a show of trying to convince Fenrir to further his education but the portly man could not hide his relief when Fenrir tells him that he won't be returning next year to study for his NEWTs. Dippet doesn't say much. He makes sure Fenrir's paperwork's in order and wishes him well.</p>
<p>Greyback knows they're all happy to see him go, teachers and students alike, once the Hogwarts gossip mill gets going. They try to hide their excitement of course, but he could see. It made Fenrir angry, and the weeks leading up to the end of his fifth year become a sort of swan song. He leaves his mark on scores of students, making sure they would never forget him.</p>
<p>In June Greyback sat his OWLs. He'd put minimal effort in studying. His marks aren't particularly noteworthy, they're perfectly average; just enough to pass and at the end of the day Fenrir Greyback was, for all intents and purposes, a fully qualified wizard, ready to go out and start his real education.</p>
<p>He visits Arcadius' portrait first. For an expedition of the kind he's planning he'll need all the help he can get, and once again Fenrir is gratful the fact that the real Arcadius spent large amounts of time talking to his portrait.</p>
<p>According to Arcadius there are patterns to where werewolves will like to settle. Eastern Europe was his safest bet. While groupings of werewolves aren't welcome anywhere in the country, large areas of unpopulated land and dense wilderness made Europe's eastern front difficult to regulate. All traits which were attractive to werewolves as they'd been pushed to the fringes of Wizarding society. Arcadius mentions small settlements of werewolves in places like the south of France, the Black Forest in Germany and Białowieża Forest in Poland; all packs he'd met on his travels who had tried to form a more stable home. Fenrir doesn't put too much faith in looking for them however, as Arcadius' information is several years out of date.</p>
<p>Next Fenrir speaks to his father. Aside from knowledge the one thing he was sure to need was money. Though he might've finished at Hogwarts, at sixteen years old Fenrir was not a legal adult. Though it annoyed him greatly he would need his father's permission to access the family vault to make a withdrawal.</p>
<p>Asking was just a formality of course, he didn't plan on taking no for an answer. His father seems to know this too because he doesn't put up a fight when he asks. Mr. Greyback, looking haggard and wrinkled beyond his years, hardly bat an eye when his son gives him the papers necessary to hand over power-of-attorney to the family gold. He merely stared at his boy's cold, dark eyes before signing and quickly continuing to drown his sorrows in another bottle of firewhisky.</p>
<p>He looked so miserable and pathetic just sitting there. It made the teenager sick just looking at him. He really would be better off if someone just put him out of his misery...or at least that's what Fenrir thought anyway….</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This will be a short story, probably somewhere around 5 chapters. I can’t see it being longer than 10. I might make it part of a series though if things go okay.</p><p>I’ll be taking a few liberties with Greyback’s origins since we know so little. That’s what makes it fun but I hope you all don’t mind.</p><p>Please let me know if you think I should add more warnings. </p><p>Please consider commenting. Thank you.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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